


Comes x In x Threes

by reinajanai



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Broken Bones, Consensual Sex, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Spit As Lube, Tags to be added as I go, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, i ship kite/pain sorry, mean girls: starring pariston hill, teenage kite, the cheadle part will be completely soft and consensual, the ging & pariston parts are one-sided, will be in 3 parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18107708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinajanai/pseuds/reinajanai
Summary: There's a saying in the medical world that the best and worst things come in threes. Luckily for Kite, there's a certain doctor determined to make his third try the charm.Part 1: GingPart 2: ParistonPart 3: Cheadle





	1. Ging

Ging gave him the choice to stay or follow.

If Kite hesitated it was only for a moment, and only because he was worried for the menagerie of animals that were in his care. Expressing this concern, however, prompted Ging to flip a cell phone from his pocket. It's casing was chipped and it was a dated model better used as a paperweight than a device to communicate, but Kite was none the wiser, having never owned a phone himself. Ging needed only to mutter a few clipped words into the receiver, and then he assured Kite that the animals would be retrieved and rehomed.

"You've probably weakened their instincts to survive on their own by feeding them," Ging said blatantly. "It's a pitiful way to live anyway. Maybe you haven't noticed, but all of your animals show signs of muscle atrophy. Maybe from a lack of exercise since they're cramped in a sewer or maybe from a protein deficiency. Either way..."

He didn't need to finish his scolding to get the point across. Kite knew that this place wasn't ideal for any living thing, animal or human. But, they'd all scraped by together somehow, and Kite took some pride in knowing that the animals were at least in better health than he probably was. However, a wealthy Hunter like the man before him could place the animals somewhere where they would thrive. At least, Kite hoped he could.

After some internal debate, Kite agreed to release his wards to the care of whoever Ging had in mind, trusting that it would be the right decision. In what must have been record time, two men, who Kite could only assume were Ging's associates, arrived and corralled the animals into vehicles. 

"You can go with them, you know," Ging muttered, watching Kite's eyes wavering as his dogs trotted off and leaped into the cab of the awaiting truck.

"No," Kite said, "you said I could follow you for a while, right?" Ging gave a grunt that sounded affirmative. "Then that's.... you could teach me how to be a Hunter."

Ging's crossed arms fell to his side and his brows knitted into a perplexed scowl. "Oi, I never said that."

"But you could."

"I only meant you could tag along until we got out of the slums. I'm not looking to take on a student." Ging gripped the rim of his cap and tucked it down to shade his eyes. "That's not to say some other Hunter wouldn't. I can take you to the Association and see if anyone's looking to gain Double status."

"Double?" 

Ging scuffed his boot, kicking up gravel, then began walking down the alley. Kite stole a look back at the trucks, nodded at Ging's associate, and started off after Ging as the cab door slammed and the engine revved.

"Double Star," Ging replied. Kite could only hear him by virtue of Ging being very loud-spoken. He doubled his tempo to catch up and when Ging began speaking again, Kite's lanky legs had brought him to Ging's side in only a few strides. "That's what you'd call a Hunter who's taken on a student. Well, the student has to become a Single Star first." 

Ging looked to his side, realizing with some disdain that he'd have to incline his head to actually make eye contact with Kite, despite the fact that he was almost certainly a teenager. Kite's eyes were wide with curiosity. He had no comprehension for Ging's words, but he appeared to be soaking them in as best he could. 

Ging sighed, his scowl deepening. "I have an assignment to finish before I return to the Association. It will take a week to reach the location by foot. After that, we'll board a ship. The port we arrive at will be a three day walk from the Association headquarters."

"Wouldn't an airship be faster?" Kite asked.

"I'm in no hurry," Ging said, sounding more and more irritated. "If you are, then I suggest you flag down the truck back there and go it alone."

"I'm not!" Kite shortened his stride to fall a pace behind Ging, an unconscious show of submission. 

"If you can withstand the journey to the target location, I'll teach you something about Hunters." Ging stopped abruptly and swiveled on his heel to face Kite. "It will be no easy task. I carry no rations, so all of your meals will be hunted or foraged. I'm taking the most direct route, so we'll be led through hostile areas. You may sustain injuries or you may become weak and fall behind. If you do, I won't help you."

"I... understand."

"You may die."

Kite's back stiffened, straightening. He had been slouching without realizing but at his full height he was nearly a head taller than the man before him. Yet, the difference in height gave him no advantage or sense of security in the face of Ging's solid stare. 

"I understand."

\--------------------------

Kite would come to find that living at Ging's side was only a marginal improvement to living in a damp sewer. Kite had grown accustomed to sleeping on any remotely suitable surface he could find, but the absence of his furry companions did make the nighttime chill a more pressing nuisance. 

Additionally, having to procure his own food from the wild was no easy task, though the available edibles were more numerous than anything he'd be able to scrounge up from the bottom of a slum dumpster. And, as long as he was willing to scale a tree to obtain fruit, it proved to be an easier retrieval than lifting it from a stand in the market.

However, by the third day into their projected seven-day trek, Kite was becoming more adept at roughing it. They passed a stream and filled canteens once Ging had determined the water to be potable, then hooked a few small fish to grill over the small fire Kite had constructed with no real direction from Ging. Meat of any kind was a rare find for Kite, and he usually didnt bother with it due to its very limited expiration, but fish was exponentially less common in the ruddy markets he usually frequented.

Learning how to descale the slimy creatures and eat around splintery bones was a nauseating task and the payoff was such a meager amount of sustenance that Kite ultimately passed his fish off to Ging and instead searched for edible vegetation. The only assistance Ging offered was informing Kite if the plants he returned with were poisonous (which, much to Kite's annoyance, many of the things that looked the most edible were, in fact, not).

After watching Kite fumble around, Ging seemed to take some pity and passed a bit of deboned meat Kite's way, muttering something to the effect of, "Don't expect me to hand everything to you, but if you don't find some source of protein you aren't going to last."

Their meal was mostly silent, aside from the crackling of the dying fire. When nothing but embers remained, Ging reclined back into the grass and dragged his cap over his eyes. 

"We'll head out at sunrise," he said. He brought a calloused hand up to loosen the scarf around his neck and dipped his fingers under his shirt to scratch at his chest. Kite eyed him intently, sitting close to the glowing residue of the fire to soak in as much of the heat as he could.

"Ging." Kite received no response. "I meant to ask why you offered to bring me along."

"I didn't offer to bring you," he muttered. "I offered to let you follow. There's a difference."

If there was some greater meaning to the slight change in phrasing, Kite didn't attempt to grasp it. Instead, he argued, "Either way, you helped me and you didn't have to."

"And it was probably a mistake." Ging grumbled and tucked his cap further onto his face. 

"I'll repay you in any way that I can," Kite offered weakly. Owing a debt never led to positive things, as Kite was well aware, especially in dealings of owing a life debt. The magnitude of Ging's assistance, however minuscule he might think it to be, was greater than anything Kite had ever been offered before. The cost of such a thing could in and of itself be reason enough to have never followed Ging in the first place. "I don't know how, but I will."

"I have no need for money or resources, so whatever you're intending is probably useless to me, anyway."

The charred logs crackled and Kite jolted at the sound. "Then, you tell me what would count as repayment." 

"I'm sure you can think of something if paying me back is that important to you," Ging said flippantly.

Kite wavered for a moment, but ultimately came to a conclusion. He'd encountered men who had no interest in money or possessions, though it wasn't as if Kite had ever had either to begin with. In those cases, he'd resorted to the only form of currency he'd always possess, because, after all, sex did sell. And, if he were being honest, Ging was far from the least attractive person Kite had ever slept with. 

Kite crawled forward, hesitating when Ging made no move to acknowledge him. His hand trembled forward, ghosting over Ging's belt, and Kite nearly stumbled back when Ging's hand snapped like a cuff around his wrist. Ging shot up at the same time, his cap tumbling to the ground.

"Whaddya think you're doing?" Ging snapped, seeming more flustered than angry.

Kite tugged to reclaim his hand, but Ging held tight, backed by a strength Kite wouldn't be able to shake even if he tried. "Well, I thought of... something."

Ging released his hand and slouched onto his elbows, scrutinizing Kite. "How old are you?"

"I'm--" Kite lowered his gaze to the ground, obscuring his eyes under his own blue cap. "I couldn't say for sure." That answer, however, did not suffice, given the scowl on Ging's face, so Kite added, "I don't know when I was born. But my best guess is... fourteen? Or maybe fifteen?"

"Shit, kid," Ging sighed. "And you wanna fuck around to pay me back?" Kite's silence was telling, and Ging continued, "I'm not someone who's gonna treat you nice or take care of you just because you get me off."

"That isn't... the point of repayment," Kite stammered. "If you were any kinder, I'd owe you that much more, wouldn't I?"

"You're pretty messed up, huh?" Ging spat. Kite had no response, instead fidgeting his fingers on his knee. Ging assessed his face, noting the gauntness of his cheeks, the exhausted bags under his hooded eyes. His lashes were as white as his hair and they shimmered faintly in the fading embers. Young or not, he wasn't bad to look at, at least. Ging resigned himself and tugged at his belt. "Well, get on with it if you must."

Kite crept forward, mustering every ounce of confidence he had to push Ging's tunic up and over his waistband. His pants were tied loosely and Kite made quick work of undoing the knot and dipping his hand in. Ging wore nothing underneath and Kite slim fingers immediately met with his half-mast erection. Kite gripped him, thumbing his head and dragging a slow line down the underside of his shaft. Ging made a quiet grunt of approval but when Kite looked up to gauge his expression he had already retrieved his cap and replaced it over his eyes. 

Kite returned his attention to Ging's hardening dick, and, wasting no time, he licked his lips and dove in to take him whole. He buried his nose in Ging's coarse hair, swallowing around his head before dragging back up to the tip. He judged based on the soft groans Ging let escape and kept a slow pace, laving his tongue around the swollen head as his hand wandered up the trail of hair toward Ging's stomach. His abs were solid and defined in ways that made Kite's cock twitch to life and it took great effort for the boy to resist pawing at himself as he sucked Ging off.

Kite became so engrossed in his task that he didn't realize Ging had removed his blue cap until a strong hand was twisted into his hair. Kite gasped as Ging wrenched a handful of his white locks, and nearly gagged as Ging slammed his hips up to meet his throat. Kite stilled, allowing Ging to fuck up into his mouth, and tried to provide friction in time with the thrusts. 

Ging was surprisingly quiet, scarcely making a sound aside from breathing heavily, and it gave Kite no indication of how close to cumming the man might be. The answer came abruptly when Ging tugged Kite in, grinding his nose and prodding the back of his throat, and he shot hot and thick into Kite without giving the boy the option to retreat. He swallowed heavily, trying not to drool around the cock in his mouth, and he blinked away tears as he teetered dangerously close to gagging. 

When Ging released Kite's hair, the boy reeled back with a gasp, licking the sweat and semen from his lips and rubbing his throat with a shaky hand. Ging's breath had already evened as he tied his pants back in place.

"Don't even leave a mess behind, do you?" Ging said. Kite took it as the closest thing to praise he'd receive and gave Ging and affirmative nod. "Well, you've at least got that going for you."

Kite crawled up to where Ging rested and laid his head down on the man's shoulder. Ging shrugged him off, dumping Kite's head to the ground. Kite caught himself but shot Ging a bewildered look.

"We talked about this," Ging muttered. "Don't go getting comfortable."

"Sorry," Kite murmured. He rolled away from Ging, crossing his arms against the chill the fizzled out fire left behind. Once Ging began to snore, Kite inched back, just close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from the sleeping man without actually touching him. He swallowed the thick musk that clung to the back of his throat, taunting him with its persistent taste. One hand crept up and over his mouth, covering and pressing to his lips. The other slid under his waistband so he could gently stroke himself. He curled in, relishing the warmth on his dick and sighed into his awaiting palm.

\---------------------------

The Hunter Association headquarters towered over the surrounding buildings, looming like a steadfast guardian. Kite took pause to stare at the steep structure, the grid of glass, the bright sign with the double X design emblazoned on it. He didn't realize until Ging's voice had raised to a booming level that he was being summoned into the building. Kite strode forward, but at a slow enough pace to drink in as much of the building's profile as possible before he entered.

The lobby was just as impressive, however, and Kite's breath caught in his throat at the sight of it as well. The tile floor reflected the crisp fluorescent lighting and Kite felt dizzy by the vastness of it all. When he began to search for Ging, his anchor in the ocean of glamor, he found his disheveled teacher caught in conversation with a tiny woman with green hair. 

As Kite approached, her voice was increasing in volume in direct correlation with how disinterested Ging's expression was becoming. "...the Chairman called us in over a week ago, where have you been?"

"Stop nagging me," Ging muttered. "I was finishing an excavation. The old man knew about it."

"You didn't even check in. There was a proposal for an amendment to the Bylaws and we've been stuck at a standstill waiting for you, Ging!"

"Oi, I thought dogs were supposed to have good dispositions, so what's your excuse?" Ging's hands found their way to his pockets. Even slouching, he was significantly taller than the agitated woman, a feat that humored Kite greatly. At the mention of "dogs" Kite arrived at Ging's side and noted that the woman had perked triangular shaped ears atop her head and a snout-like nose complete with a darkened tip. 

She stiffened at Ging's comment, gripping the apron of her multi-layered dress in her fists. "Stop trying to change the subject, you boorish vagrant!"

"Boorish?" Ging scoffed. "Was that a pun?"

"Our votes are divided six to five," the woman snapped. "Get in there, read over the proposal, and cast your vote. If you vote in opposition to the amendment it will be decided and we can adjourn. If you vote in favor, we'll be tied and stuck trying to pull a vote one way or the other for a majority."

"Whoever decided it was a good idea to determine revisions of the Bylaws by a majority vote from an even numbered office..."

"Ging." His name practically scraped through her gritted teeth, but when she caught sight of Kite her jaw relaxed. She avoided tilting her head to see him but had to roll her eyes at a sharp angle to do so. The whites of her sclera gleamed behind the huge circular lenses of her glasses.

"Kite, this is Cheadle Yorkshire," Ging said suddenly. "In the Association, there's a group of us known as the Zodiacs. Cheadle here represents the Dog."

Cheadle looked skeptical as she asked, "And this is...?"

Kite extended a hand to her. "My name is Kite. I'm Ging's..." He hesitated, both on the explanation of his connection to Ging and because her eyes widened momentarily at the sight of his outstretched hand. She reeled the expression in quickly but made no move to reciprocate the greeting. Kite pulled his hand back and planted it on his hip. She smiled at the gesture and averted her eyes. "I've been traveling with Ging for the last two weeks."

"Oh?" She looked back to Ging. "I had heard from your informants that you had taken on an apprentice."

"I haven't," Ging corrected. "He's been tagging along, but only 'til we made it here. You know of anybody that's looking for a student?"

"I don--"

"Does that mean he isn't fit to become a Hunter?" a cheery voice called from beside them. Ging didn't even turn to the source of the voice, but Cheadle and Kite both cast their stares to the adjacent hallway where a blond man in a pinstripe suit stood. "Or could it be.... that your antisocial nature is scaring him off?"

Kite bristled. "I'm not--"

"I'm not interested in training anybody," Ging cut. "But it isn't for any lack of ability I've seen from the kid. He can keep up, has even been able to get categorized with water divination."

Cheadle shot an interested look at Kite. "You can use Nen?"

"I've typed him," Ging answered. "Like I said though, I'm not interested in training him. I'll leave that headache to somebody else. Know anybody who's looking?"

"I take it that you're interested in becoming a Hunter then?" the man in the pinstriped suit asked Kite directly. "What did the water divination determine your Nen type to be?"

"I'm a Conjurer," Kite said, before noticing Ging's hand raising up to halt him. Kite flinched at the troubled look on Ging's face, knowing he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"A Conjurer?" the blond man echoed, his voice sounding a little too pleased. "I've only dabbled a bit with training Manipulators. My former student was a boy named Shal--"

"He isn't interested in being trained by you, Pariston," Ging spat. "We all saw how that kid turned out, and on the list of things that Kite doesn't want to become, a petty criminal probably tops it."

"I don't think petty is the word I would use," Pariston said, his smile never fading.

"These things aside," Cheadle interrupted, "Pariston already has Double Star status. It would be better for a lesser credentialed Hunter to take on an apprentice. The more Double Hunters registered to the Association, the more clout we can garner as an organization." She locked eyes with Pariston. "Wouldn't you agree?"

A moment of heated silence passed and Kite could practically feel the weight of the three's auras clashing. When Ging had been bantering back and forth with Cheadle, it had remained light despite her clear frustration with him. The addition of Pariston was the factor that flooded the lobby with tension and Kite couldn't help but shiver at the eerie way Pariston's smile never faded despite the glassy, distant look in his eyes.

"I suppose you'll be on the lookout for a proper master for the boy then?" Pariston asked. "It's fitting, given your affinity for charity cases."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cheadle growled.

"Honestly, scrub him down and throw out those tattered clothes and he might be presentable enough for you to be interested, Cheadle." Pariston shot Kite a nasty smirk, perhaps the most authentic crack in his facade yet. "He'd at least not reek to the point that a five foot distance between you would be a mandatory courtesy. Honestly, Ging, did you forbid him from bathing the last few weeks?"

Kite tensed as heat bloomed from his cheeks all the way to his ears. He held his breath, so as not to give himself an involuntary smell test. But, the pleading look on Cheadle's face seemed telling and Kite wilted a few steps back.

"Yeah, yeah," Ging groused. "Take a pop shot. It's easy to target someone who's crawling in the trenches when you're sitting pretty in your padded office, isn't it?"

"It may take some time to find a suitable master for him," Cheadle interrupted. To Kite, she added, "I'm omitting myself from the list of candidates simply because I'm not prepared to take on an apprentice, so please don't misunderstand."

"How long?" Ging asked.

"I couldn't say. Will you be able to accommodate him until I find someone?"

"Looks like I don't have a choice," Ging muttered. "Which vote did you say would give a majority?"

"Huh?" Cheadle balked then replied, "A vote against the amendment."

"Then I vote that," Ging snapped. "I'm not in favor of the Bylaws changing anyway, so there's your majority."

"But--"

"I'm not sticking around. If you get any leads for the kid, send word my way." Ging leveled an unreadable stare at Kite. "Unless you've decided to stay."

"No," Kite said, "I'll follow. Just lead the way."

Ging gritted his teeth in agitation and stamped through the lobby. "What a pain in the ass. Same rule stands, you get in the way, I'm dropping you like a rock."

Kite smiled and gave chase, disappearing through the automatic doors with Ging. Pariston chuckled, his grin widening in the malicious way it always did when he was scheming. Cheadle clenched her fists until her knuckles burned. 

She had a bad feeling about this.


	2. Pariston

The next time Kite found himself in the Association headquarters, nearly four months had passed. Ging had taken a couple token assignments, simple supervisory jobs that required him only to make an appearance, direct his associates on specifics of excavations, then leave for the next task. He'd also dragged Kite into a hostile jungle in search of a buried temple, a mission that was admittedly meant for Pro Hunters only and that Kite had no real business tagging along for. Kite managed to come out of the ordeal mostly intact, save for a few broken bones. Which, given the severity of the situation, Kite felt was a grand success. 

When he walked into the headquarters, he was without Ging, who had already arrived hours earlier to meet with the Chairman. His arm was cradled in a sling, his blood-stained cap perched atop his head like a bruised fruit. He questioned a sharply dressed woman at the front desk as to Ging's whereabouts, getting no substantive answer. Apparently even when isolated to a single building Ging was difficult to find.

He offered her a polite nod of gratitude and set off through the lobby to look for Ging himself. He passed offices and cubicles occupied by white-collar workers and wondered idly if everyone that worked here possessed a Hunter license or if any average person could be under the Association's employ. Many of them looked frail and inequipped for battle or hard labor, but then again, Kite reminded himself, the two Zodiacs he'd met months ago didn't appear durable either. He assumed a repeat meeting, now that he knew more of the basics of Nen, would reveal deeper qualities that his untrained eyes simply couldn't have seen before.

His search for his temporary master brought him up an elevator and down another office-lined hall. He turned a corner, passing by a much larger office that undoubtedly belonged to someone of importance, and stopped dead in his tracks upon feeling a heavy aura wash over the floor. The menancing En encroached on Kite, squeezing the air from his lungs. He whirled, trying to locate the source, and was met with the pinstriped Pariston, who had moved within arm's length of Kite without making a sound.

Reflexively, Kite scrambled back, flaring his aura. Pariston stalked up to him, his trademark smile never leaving his face. "Now, now, don't get ahead of yourself. We have rules here, you know."

"I'm not a Hunter," Kite said. "I'm not governed by those rules."

"Combat isn't allowed here, Hunter or not," Pariston sang, extending his arms out, palms open. "Why don't we play nice? I never properly introduced myself when we met."

"You're Pariston Hill," Kite said. "Vice Chairman of the Hunter Association."

"And you are Kite, without a family name," Pariston countered. "The pitiful child Ging Freecss fished out of a dumpster."

"It was a sewer, actually," Kite snapped.

"And he has a sense of humor!" Pariston's arms flew out wider as his grin grew. "Ging always has had a knack for finding interesting new playthings." Kite gritted his teeth and took a slow step back. With any luck, someone else would make an appearance in the hall and he could make his escape. Until then, he kept heated eye contact with the snake of a man before him. "Oh, didn't you know? You're the newest dalliance Ging's engaged in, but you're far from the first."

"I assumed as much," Kite said. 

"He has a nasty habit of singling someone out," Pariston chimed. "There's always one in the group, one that he uses for convenience. You can usually identify them by the way they follow after him like lost puppies." He moved closer, until Kite's back pressed to the wall. "There was a man named Satotzz who was several years Ging's senior in age alone. Then there was some thug named Razor. There was even rumored to be a woman that Ging knocked up--"

"Stop," Kite hissed. His eyes followed Pariston's hand as it came up to rest on the wall beside Kite's head.

"For the longest time, I felt sure that he'd taken a swing at our sweet little dog, Miss Cheadle Yorkshire, but that seems unlikely given her aversion to filth. And now there's you. How unfortunate that you didn't come with a matching set. It makes it all the more obvious that you're the one managing his nightly lip service."

"Shut up," Kite protested. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Pariston laughed. His fingers tapped at Kite's sling, dragging down until the boy's elbow was cradled in his hand. Pariston thumbed the crease of Kite's arm, applying enough pressure to make Kite's face contort in discomfort. "He has kept a few names on speed dial over the years, people who he considers a threat. He's always lived under the assumption that it's better to keep your enemies close, and, really, how much closer could you hope to be when you're frequently sharing a bed?"

Kite hissed as Pariston's grip tightened, aura licking out around his forearm and permeating into the core of his fractured radius. Pariston's eyes gleamed with a knowing look, one that Kite was sure he was meant to draw assumptions from.

"You're lying," Kite spat. "Ging wouldn't sink to the likes of you."

"Coming from a sewer whore, that's incredibly amusing," Pariston tittered. His aura spiked and an audible crack sounded from Kite's arm as the simple break splintered into a comminuted fracture, a jigsaw of shattered pieces encased under his skin. Kite cried out, unable to move under the weight of Pariston's aura. "Is that how you scream for him, I wonder?"

"You're a liar!" Kite yelped. "You're a liar and Ging told me that himself!"

"Oh, you poor, sweet boy," Pariston tutted. He leaned forward until his hot breath invaded Kite's ear. "Did he also tell you why he arrived here hours before you?"

"He's meeting with the Chairman," Kite whined.

"Maybe he is," Pariston whispered. "Now, anyway."

When Pariston fell back, Kite nearly slumped on the wall, cradling his battered arm to his heaving chest. The blond dusted off his lapel, more for show than for any actual purpose, and shot Kite a blinding smile.

"The Zodiacs are hosting a soiree later tonight," Pariston said. From the office behind him, a phone began to ring, and a soft feminine voice answered. "Ging has promised he'll be there, though how long he might stay will be up for debate. It should prove to be a night of drinks and debauchery, if our other gatherings are any indication. You should come and..." He dipped forward, cupping Kite's cheek in his hand even as the boy flinched. "...partake. I won't let anyone know you're a child if you promise not to act like one."

"Vice Chairman, sir." 

Pariston turned to the call, giving a half wave to the pencil skirted woman standing guard at the office threshold. "Tell them I'll be right there."

"Yes, sir."

She scurried back into the office as Pariston gave Kite a final once over. "Do be sure to shower before the party. And leave the cap at home, it's an eyesore."

"Bastard," Kite muttered.

"I'll see you soon, little Kite."

As Pariston strutted away, Kite rounded the hall and collapsed against the wall once he was out of direct line of sight from the office.

\----------------------------

"I thought I told you not to wear the cap." 

Kite jolted at the sound of Pariston's voice. The man weaved between partygoers to reach Kite and his smile lessened only slightly at the sight of the blue article on Kite's head.

"I didn't come here for you." Kite pulled his broken arm in closer. "Ging said if he had to attend, I had to. We won't be staying long." Kite took care to emphasize the "we," but Pariston didnt seem fazed by it one way or another.

Pariston held a hand in front of Kite, closing his eyes as though he was listening for something. He closed all but his index finger and began wagging his hand through the air like and orchestra conductor. It took Kite a moment to realize he was moving in time to music that was playing over the built in speaker system. It sounded more like elevator music than anything else, but Pariston seemed pleased with it.

"Do you dance, little Kite?"

"Absolutely not," Kite spat.

"I find it to be relaxing," Pariston said, paying his response no mind. He dove forward to take Kite's uninjured arm, lacing their fingers together, and hooked the other hand at his waist to tug the boy close. Kite struggled but Pariston twirled with him, making it appear as though Kite simply didn't have good balance. "There's an art to politics, much like there is to dancing and even to combat. If you're quick to catch your opponent off guard, then the floor is yours."

Pariston shuffled Kite's shirt up just enough to create an opening and Kite shivered as a cold finger pressed into the hot line of exposed skin on his back. Though they had been the only ones dancing to the ridiculous silence filler music, Kite noticed with great annoyance that others had joined in at Pariston's lead. Liquor no doubt fueled some of the participating couples, but others seemed to genuinely be enjoying it.

"If you're smart, you can control the entire room," Pariston whispered as he pulled Kite to his chest. "Humans are simple, foolish creatures. They yearn to be led and dominated."

"You say that as though you aren't also human," Kite muttered, trying his best to push a few inches between them.

"Oh, but I hardly am," Pariston said. "There's nothing simple about me. I am the shepherd who will stand atop a hill watching his flock move in any direction they are commanded. I am the one who will allow the dumb masses to exist in this world, provided that they don't fall out of line. This is what it means to be a Hunter." Pariston suddenly dipped Kite backward. He clamored to grip at Pariston's padded shoulder, keeping himself from dropping all his weight into the man's arm. Around them, the other dancing couples bent in a frenzied mimickry. "A true Hunter is in control of every action and reaction around him."

"You're just an arrogant bastard."

"I suppose someone like you would say that," Pariston laughed. "But surely you don't think Ging is any different, right?"

"He is different."

Pariston swept Kite back up, resuming their dance. "He's every bit as cocky as I am and maybe even more so because he's also a sore loser."

"He's not--"

"Have you ever seen him lose, little Kite?" A misstep brought Kite back to Pariston's chest, his ear once again uncomfortably close to the man's heated breath. "Because I have."

The music overhead shifted, a different song for a different elevator, a ride that Kite certainly didn't want to take. Pariston held him close, dipped his chin, allowed his lips to drift downward and plant on the side of Kite's neck. Kite clenched his teeth, not trusting the sounds bubbling in his throat in response to the sudden assault on his neck. It had been literal years since anyone had paid him that sort of attention. Greedy slumlords never bothered with niceties when dealing with the likes of Kite and even Ging had avoided any sort of affection Kite might perceive as a reciprocation. 

"Do you want to know a secret?" Pariston murmured against Kite's pulse. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Ging thinks of you as a pawn. You're a tool, a thing to be controlled. But, you're fine with that, aren't you?"

Kite lolled his head away, searching the crowd for his aforementioned master, and found him playing the wallflower no more than thirty feet away. Ging's eyes met his for a moment and his chin tilted up just enough to give a subtle gesture.

'Come on, let's go.'

Pariston leaned back, caught Kite's chin between a forefinger and thumb. "Is he telling you it's time to leave?"

"Let me go."

"How long do you think he'll stay interested in a sheep?" Pariston's voice dripped with a poisonous sweetness. Kite's eyes wavered, his lips pressing to a thin line. 

"He isn't interested in me to begin with," Kite said.

"Ah, but you're missing the bigger picture." Pariston's thumb glossed over Kite's lower lip. "If even one little sheep gets separated from the flock, it's shepherd will come to retrieve it. Do you know why that is?"

"N-no."

"Because only an incompetent shepherd loses one of his flock. Now, given the important detail that you are without a flock and currently the only sheep in his care, it would be an obnoxiously large blow to his pride to lose you. Wouldn't you agree, little Kite?"

His lips were on Kite's before the boy could even think to form a response, hands roaming on his back. Kite wilted, even as sirens were blaring in his head. His eyes cracked open, searching deleriously for Ging, who was at the same spot as before, jaw going slack as he made eye contact with Kite. Ging's brow twitched in annoyance and Kite tested him by visibly returning Pariston's gesture. For a second, a look of confusion flashed on Ging's face, the most perplexed expression Kite had ever seen from the man, and the reality of the situation hit Kite like a brick.

Ging was caught off guard.

Pariston swayed back with a gasp that sounded unexpectedly cheerful and stroked Kite's good arm. "You are quite the kisser, aren't you?" Kite could feel himself cracking, his eyes softening as Pariston petted his face and removed his blue cap to smooth his hair. "What do you say we get a few drinks in you and let you have some real fun, hm?"

Kite stole a final look at Ging, who returned a disbelieving stare, before turning back to Pariston. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll have a drink with you... and then..."

"And then." Pariston said it as though it were a sealed deal, and Kite felt his stomach flipping. A large hand braced the back of Kite's head then dropped down to the small of his back to lead him to the open bar. "That's a good little sheep."

\---------------------------------

As it turned out, one drink very easily became two drinks, and two drinks in the body of a skinny teenager who had never once tried alcohol before became an all-too effective incentive to follow Pariston back to his hotel. The Vice Chairman welcomed him through the threshold with a third drink, and his glass didn't go empty after that.

Kite felt liberated and bubbly as he curled up with Pariston on the sofa in his suite. Had Kite had his wits about him, he would have been uncomfortable with the granduer of the space around him, but drunk Kite didn't seem too bothered by the luxury. Pariston talked endlessly, but Kite eventually began listening more to the sound of his voice than the actual words. The gentle hand combing through his hair was an added distraction that Kite leaned into like a purring cat.

"So tell me," Pariston hummed. "What other things besides kissing are you good at?"

"I can do anything y'want," Kite slurred. "'Cept maybe a handstand since y'busted my arm." Kite broke into a peal of laughter, entirely too amused by his own joke. 

Pariston gave him a closed mouth smile and guided him to the floor. "You like it soft, don't you?"

"Mmhmm."

"Why don't you show me how soft you can be?" Pariston reached for the button of his trousers, but Kite intercepted and fumbled with it himself. He freed Pariston from the fabric confines and set to work. The task was something Kite knew well, but mixed with alcohol, his actions were sloppy, and Pariston had to scold him to watch his teeth. The subsequent overcorrection left Kite drooling obscenely onto the front of Pariston's trousers. "Honestly, do you realize how expensive this suit is?"

A jolt of panic blazed through Kite's foggy mind. Expensive, it was expensive, he'd stained it, he'd owe him now. Debt, he had a debt to Ging and that's what brought him here in the first place, because Ging accepted the repayment but not Kite's affection. The smallest show of affection and Kite had collapsed, and now... and now...

Pariston yanked Kite back suddenly, spurting onto his face and hair. Kite remained slack-jaw, unable to form words and string them together. Pariston feigned an apologetic face and said, "Oh, I'm very sorry! But, I suppose that's better than making you swallow, hm?"

Kite wasn't sure which would be worse, the taste of Pariston lingering on his tongue or the struggle of removing semen from his white hair. Neither seemed ideal but Kite frowned at the option he'd been stuck with.

"I had another question," Pariston said, helping Kite off the floor. He fiddled with Kite's fly and shimmied the waistband lower on the boy's sleek hips. "What sort of things has Ging done to you?"

"That's..." His cheeks were already flushed drunken grenadine red, and Pariston's words were the match that set his alcohol infused skin ablaze. "That isn't any of your..."

"Has he been inside you?" Kite fidgeted where he stood. "Has anyone?"

"He... has." Kite averted his eyes. "And I... had. Before. With others."

"Others," Pariston parroted. "Oh dear, when I called you a whore, I was only teasing but you actually were, weren't you?" Kite's lip trembled, shamed, and Pariston eased the boy's pants down until they pooled at his feet. "No need to be shy. Here, then, if you're used to doing it, you can ride me."

Kite stepped out of his pants and straddled Pariston's lap. He sank slowly, sliding Pariston's dick between his spread cheeks, teasing a bit. Breathing heavily, he asked, "Lube?"

"Oh," Pariston chimed. "I wasn't really intending to have company so... I'm sure your long history has taught you some clever improvisations."

Kite could feel his eyes stinging with emotion. Pariston had been petting him all night but his words contrasted his actions so much it had Kite's head spinning. Kite could still feel some dampness on Pariston's shaft, and he dripped saliva into his palm to further slick the attent cock. He positioned himself and sank onto Pariston, sighing when the blond pistoned his hips up. It was rough, but nothing Kite couldn't handle.

"Oh, you opened right up for me, didn't you?" Pariston murmured, pulling Kite close as he rocked into him. Kite gave an affirmative whine, moaning against his shoulder.

Pariston made quick work of him, rutting him until he was a clinging, whimpering mess. Kite came hard, staining Pariston's shirt with splattered cum, and drooped against him. Pariston offered him a moment to catch his breath before he rolled Kite off of him onto the sofa.

"You can rest here for a while, but you should probably know that Ging will leave town without you if you don't return by sunrise."

"He... I... what?" Kite's thoughts felt jumbled and he looked up at Pariston bleary eyed as the blond retreated toward the king sized bed further in the suite. "There're a few more hours. We could... in bed I mean."

Pariston chuckled and leaned on the pocket door that divided the suite into two rooms. "Oh, it seems I've given you the wrong impression. I want to make Ging squirm and you want to make him re-evaluate his opinion of you, both of which can be accomplished if we help one another out. But, I see no benefit in bringing a whore to bed with me when a quick tryst will do the trick. You do understand, don't you?"

\-----------------

The street lights were like explosives to Kite's eyes, bursting and scattering through his brain with a dull ache. Pariston's hotel was only a few blocks away from the Association headquarters, and Ging's was several more in the opposite direction. Kite thought to hail a cab, but decided against it when his stomach churned and bubbled acid into his throat. He coughed, stumbled to the edge of the sidewalk, and vomited at the base of a street lamp.

A burning trail clawed its way up the back of his throat and out his nose, and he doubled over, bracing his good hand on his knee to drain his airway clear. He gasped, unaware of the soft footsteps moving closer, until his name was called. 

"Kite?"

He whipped around, biting his tongue as his guts threatened to purge again, and was met with large gleaming lenses and, more importantly, the worried eyes of Cheadle Yorkshire. He noticed with great shame that he'd puked in the forecourt of the Association headquarters, and he dug his fingers into the puffed top of his cabbie hat. Cheadle approached him slowly and he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He couldn't imagine why she would even be at the headquarters still, and cursed his luck running into her of all people. As if he needed her to be more disgusted by him.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked. "I saw you with Pariston earlier, and then you..." He hung his head, sinking lower until his knees pressed to the concrete, and she let out a small gasp. He heard the soft flutter of her skirt as she knelt in front of him, bringing her face lower than his so she could catch a look of his eyes under the rim of his hat. "Kite, what did he do to you? Are you okay?"

"I just... too much," he murmured.

"What?"

"I drank too much," Kite offered weakly. "Just feeling a little..." He glanced up at her, saw her worrying her lip between her teeth. "Just a little sick is all. Ging... I need to get back to Ging."

Kite meant it as statement of fact rather than a plead for assistance, but in the next instant, Cheadle took a shaky step toward him and helped him to his feet. He staggered at standing so suddenly and she hooked an arm behind his back, leaning in so he could stabilize against her shoulder.

"Is Ging at the Triple Circle? That's where he usually stays."

Prior to their arrival in the city, Ging had warned Kite against revealing where they would be staying to anyone. If he settled anywhere for more than a few nights, he would even rent decoy rooms at other places to throw others off his tracks. Yet, Cheadle had thrown out the correct answer immediately. Kite swallowed his words, not wanting to confirm if she was simply guessing, but she seemed to take his silence for an attempt to block out his nausea instead. 

"Do you need to sit down a moment for the dizziness to pass?"

"No, I'm fine," Kite said. "I can find my way back."

"The Triple is a fifteen minute walk sober," she said. "I'm not about to let you wander around the streets at night in your condition." She was digging into her coat pocket as she spoke and procured a phone. 

"What are you doing?"

"Calling a taxi," she answered.

"No," he refused, "I can't. I might... in a car, I might get sick again."

"You won't be the first intoxicated passenger to vomit in a taxi, I promise you that," Cheadle said simply, dialing in and holding her phone out on speaker setting. Kite wondered with mild amusement if off speaker she would hold a phone up to her dog ears or if they where actually just for show. He couldn't see a fleshy shell of a normal ear, but her hair was thick enough to hide it if she did have those as well. 

Once the requisition had been placed, Cheadle guided Kite to a bench to wait. She never lost the concerned expression that cut a crease between her brows, and her eyes struggled to stay glued to the ground instead of looking up at Kite. Eventually he could feel the weight of her attention, and he shifted his head slightly to the side. Her stare darted from the sidewalk to him and she appeared to be troubled by something. 

As Kite realized she was fixated on the sling that held his fractured arm, she blurted, "I saw you wearing that earlier tonight. Were you injured in the field?"

"Rock climbing," he revealed. "I slipped and caught myself wrong."

"May I?"

Kite was more than shocked to see her gloved hand extended to him, face up and displaying a pawprint design that outlined her palm and fingertips. Even after a moment of silence, she didn't drop her hand, so Kite gingerly lifted his arm up to her. She unfastened the buckles holding the sling in place and dragged the strap out from under his hair. When his arm was exposed and presented to her, she methodically removed her glasses and her bared eyes began to shimmer with a flood of aura. 

Her face contorted in sympathy and Kite could only assume she was using a technique similar to Gyo to assess the damage. "It must have been quite a fall."

"It was," Kite lied.

"Would you mind..." She hesitated and Kite noticed her take a slow, steadying breath. "Could you roll your sleeve up, please?"

"Ah... I guess?" The act of pushing the cuff up his throbbing forearm was torturous, but he managed to unveil the bruised skin.

Cheadle's head tipped slightly, the aura around her eyes pulsing. "This should have been stabilized and padded. A sling is really only effective for soft tissue injuries or hairline fractures."

"I didn't see a doctor or anything," Kite said. That wasn't a lie, at least. He averted his gaze, unable to stand the way her eyes had begun to shimmer with emotion. The next moment, he flinched as a cool softness grazed his arm. And in the next, his still-hazy brain had to play on loop to register the fact that she had removed a glove and touched her hand flat to his forearm. He wondered briefly how her hand could be chilled inside of a glove before realizing that her skin was simply normal temperature while his inflamed injury was abnormally hot.

"You'll feel a tingling sensation, so please don't be alarmed," Cheadle directed.

"Tingling? What--" Kite's words caught in his throat as the aforementioned feeling radiated out from Cheadle's fingertips. He attempted to use Gyo, assuming that she was using Nen, and managed to see the fading outline of what appeared to be a syringe hovering over his wrist. 

Cheadle blinked the aura from her eyes, completely disseminating the Nen syringe with it, then returned her glasses to the bridge of her nose. When she adjusted the frames, Kite took notice of the daintiness if her fingertips. She kept her nails pristine, with barely a sliver of a crescent projecting out from her nail bed. She replaced her glove quickly.

"You will experience numbness from your bicep down in around sixty seconds," she said. "Once you begin to notice that, I'll need you to hold your arm straight out."

"Is this a sobriety test?"

She smiled and Kite's throat tightened at the sight. "No, but it will help the bone mend faster."

Kite registered a lack of sensation spreading through his arm and willed his shoulder to rotate up. It was strange, seeing an arm in front of him that felt disconnected from his body. It was even stranger to see the skin of his arm ripple slightly. 

"Stay still," Cheadle ordered. "It will be finished in just a moment."

"What will?"

"I programed the cells in your forearm to shift and repair," she explained. "The fragments of bone should move back into place and fuse without complications."

In fewer than five minutes, feeling returned to Kite's arm and he was shocked to learn that the throbbing pain had stopped. He tested his arm, flexing his fingers and wrist. It was as though the injury had never happened.

"That was your Hatsu?" Kite asked, dumbfounded.

"Part of it, yes."

"How does it work?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Cheadle said. "I'm not a combatant, so having anomynity to the extent of my ability is the only advantage I have. I hope you understand."

"Oh, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." Kite couldn't find appropriate words, but Cheadle seemed to accept the sentiment. Her hands clasped in her lap and she worried her thumbs together.

"You're lucky the fracture was fresh, actually," Cheadle said offhandedly. "Bones are much less resistant to manipulation if you can mend them within twelve hours of sustaining an injury."

Kite argued, "I hurt it over a week ago."

"I'm sure you did, initially," Cheadle rebutted. 

Kite swallowed hard, squirming under the all-knowing look she was giving him. She didn't need to elaborate for Kite to know that he'd been caught in his lie. He tore his eyes away from her, feeling a sickness in the bottom of his stomach that had nothing to do with alcohol.

Soon enough, the cab appeared and when Kite tried to stand he was once again hit with a persistent dizziness. Cheadle half carried him to the vehicle and helped him inside. She leaned into the back seat and relayed the address of the Triple Circle hotel to the driver. When she began to exit the vehicle, Kite's newly healed arm shot forward and he gripped her sleeve between his thumb and forefinger.

"Please don't--" His eyes widened in time with hers and he released her sleeve as though he'd been burned. "I'm sorry."

'Please don't leave.'

The shock on her face shifted to understanding and she gestured for Kite to move to the opposite side so she could slide in beside him.

\------------------

Ging had stripped down to loose linen pants and answered the door shirtless and scowling. Cheadle communicated something through her eyes alone and Ging grumbled, "Why're you here?" He eyed Kite. "And where've you been?"

Silent, Kite shuffled blearily into the hotel room and kicked his shoes off beside the pull out sofa he'd been sleeping on since the two of them had been in town. The mattress was still unfolded and his blankets lay in a pile on top.

"I ran into him in front of headquarters and was worried he wouldn't make it back on his own," Cheadle said simply. Ging frowned at her. "He wanted you."

"Is that all?" Ging groused.

"No," Cheadle snapped. "You should take better care. He's had who-knows how many drinks. Why weren't you--" Ging's glare silenced her but she returned an equally intense stare. She challenged, "The Chairman has a new assignment for you."

"I'll be sure to see him before I leave town," Ging countered.

"Ging, I'm serious--"

"Go home, Cheadle," Ging muttered. "If he blacks out I'll dunk him in the tub."

She clenched her jaw. "Good night, Ging."

"Yeah, yeah." 

The door slammed out the light from the hallway and Cheadle's soft footsteps faded off down the corridor. Kite fumbled to strip off his shirt as Ging whisked by him.

Kite eyed the blanket on the pull-out, watched as Ging shuffled back to the bed and disappeared under the comforter. His mentor had no words for him, no insistent question of where he'd been, no indication of worry. Kite half expected him to proposition him, but that didn't happen either. He didn't even take notice to the fact that Kite's arm was freed from its sling and in perfect repair, though Kite supposed that Cheadle's presence more than explained it without needing an elaboration. 

Kite settled in on the pull-out bed and it creaked as he got comfortable. Ging's snoring filled the room not even ten minutes later and Kite was struck with a chilling realization. 

A shepherd would retrieve a single member of his flock because every head held some value. However, if the shepherd could say without a doubt that the sheep had been carried off by a wolf, naturally he wouldn't give chase. 

Because sheep were, ultimately, replaceable, and what man would pry open snapping jaws to save something he never cared for in the first place?


	3. Cheadle

The next morning, Ging made good on his promise to meet with the Chairman, who seemed to be one of the few people he actually respected. Their chat was brief, as many of their exchanges were, and Ging set out without stopping in at Pariston’s office. Before he could escape the building, however, he was intercepted by Cheadle, who looked significantly sleep deprived, and irately so.

“What are you, the hall monitor?” Ging asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Kite isn’t with you,” she said, straight to the point.

"He's sleeping off a helluva hangover," Ging groused.

“I trust that you intend to go back to the hotel before you leave the city?”

“Jeez, you’ve really been up my ass about this kid,” Ging snapped. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you just take him?”

“He’s become attached to you,” Cheadle said. “I doubt he’d come with me, even if I offered.”

“You’re supposed to be finding a permanent replacement for me, remember? He’s going to have to let go one way or another. Anyway, I don’t see what your hesitation is.”

“I don’t see him as the type who would enjoy my line of work,” Cheadle explained. “There are exciting events occasionally, but it’s mostly just sitting at a microscope watching viruses replicate. Does that really sound like something he’d want?”

“He would want,” Ging said, “whatever his master wanted.”

The implication of that didn't set well with Cheadle and she deflected with a bombshell.

“I already have a potential applicant lined up,” she admitted. Ging seemed surprised. “The Chairman has referred her to me personally because she wants to specialize as a Virus Hunter. Once she passes her exam, she'll be coming straight to me and it's been requested that I... seriously consider taking her on."

Meaning Netero was insisting. Meaning Cheadle would concede.

“Ah.” Ging’s expression shifted to that of disappointment and back so quickly that Cheadle almost missed it. “If that’s how it is. Guess he’ll have to tag along a bit longer.”

“Ging,” Cheadle pleaded, “don’t be so hard on him. He really does look up to you, and he’s destroying himself trying to please you.”

“I think you’re reading into things too much.”

“His arm was broken,” Cheadle accused.

“Oh, come off it,” Ging scoffed. “A few bumps aren’t going to kill him.”

“I’m not talking about whatever small injury he had when you arrived in the city,” Cheadle snapped, her voice gaining momentum. “When I found him last night, it was completely shattered.”

“What?” The surprise on Ging’s face lingered longer than he intended.

“The bone showed no signs of cell restoration or clot formation. A week old injury would already have entered the reparative stage,” Cheadle stated. “If I had the timing correct, it had occurred very recently. Maybe even before the party." Her ears perked at the sound of Ging's knuckles cracking as his fists clenched in his pockets. "You know where he had been. I'm sure you've come to the same conclusion I have. You should have--"

"Don't try to pin the blame on me," Ging muttered. "It's not like I knew that Paris had--"

"Paris, huh?" Cheadle accused, her voice heavy with disgust at the familiarity Ging was using.

"Don't give me that."

"You should know better than to let an innocent kid get dragged into... whatever this messed up relationship you have with Pariston is."

Ging scoffed and tore his eyes off her with a huff. "While we're asking questions and making criticisms," he countered, "are you sure it was wise to fix his arm?"

"I wasn't going to let him leave in that condition," Cheadle blurted in disbelief. "He would have hidden it from you so you wouldn't leave him behind. That poor boy would have allowed himself to become irreparably disfigured and you would have been none the wiser."

"And you may have ruined yourself by doing what you did." Ging pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the only people, aside from your original Nen instructor and Netero, who have been targeted by your Hatsu were either unconscious when it was used on them or were killed shortly after."

Cheadle stilled. Weaponized, her Hatsu could guarantee fatality. In practicum, however, she used it on patients laid out on the operating table, witnesses who would not be awake to see it. There were, of course, a few exceptions who had been conscious and on the receiving end of it and lived, but those people were unaware of the phenomenon of Nen in the first place--innocent, unsuspecting civilians. And, Cheadle guarded their existence more carefully than her own abilities, least they be hunted down and tortured to be used against her.

Ging's line of questioning more or less confirmed that he was unsure of any living witnesses, aside from the obvious ones. She intended to keep it that way.

"That's right," she said cooly.

"Meaning," Ging clarified, "that 'innocent kid' is one of the only people living who has any knowledge of your ability."

The edge to his words signaled something deeper--probing for information. His words were always carefully selected, after all. He wasn't emphasizing that Kite was a singular liability; rather, he was trying to bait her into hinting if there were others.

"What you're allowing to happen to him makes me sick," Cheadle growled, as though it were the obvious explanation for her actions. His expression softened slightly. Her panic had caused her to snap away from giving a confirmation, though, and Ging most certainly noticed.

He didn't press on, however, and Cheadle could only assume it was due to receiving exactly the answer he wanted. "If I wanted to know your power, all I'd have to do is ask and he'd spill his guts."

"I'm sure. But even without seeing it you've probably already figured it out on your own, anyway." Ging shrugged at that, and Cheadle silently thanked her lucky stars that he wasn't her enemy.

"That's beside the point," he said. "If he decides to tell anybody else, somebody who has an agenda against you, you'll be fucked and you know it."

"That's a risk I was willing to take," Cheadle admitted. He was worried about her, in his own weird way, she realized.

"Pariston still doesn't know," Ging said. "Mostly because he hasn't been interested enough to piece it together. But if given the low hanging fruit, he'd be more than happy to pluck it to use against you later."

"Sounds like you should keep him away from Kite, then." The ice in her tone was enough to give any lesser man pause, but Ging merely frowned at the warning. "Consider it a courtesy to me if nothing else."

"Are you finished?" Ging grumbled.

"For now, I suppose," Cheadle muttered.

He waved her off and side-stepped around her. "See you later."

 

\-------------------

 

The next time Ging returned to headquarters, six more months had passed, and news of his arrival filtered through the building like a rumor. Cheadle was retiring from a particularly time intensive project that had kept her glued to a microscope and petri dish all night when she heard the first mention of the other Zodiac's appearance.

The lab in the Association basement had become cramped with the addition of her prospective apprentice, a timid girl named Sanbica Norton. When Cheadle took her leave, the girl stayed behind in the lab to make record of a few final readings, and Cheadle was honestly relieved that she had. It wasn't uncommon for a project to pull Cheadle away from her home and keep her detained at the Association for days on end, but the presence of another person in her workspace had been grating on her nerves.

It wasn't that the girl was anything less than Netero had promised; she was brilliant, eager, and a student that was guaranteed to rise to Single Star status and earn Cheadle her Double. However, Sanbica was a loner with no real need for Cheadle's tutelage, and, in the four months since the completion of the Hunter exam, Cheadle had found nothing about the girl that particularly made her want to register her as a student in the first place.

Word had it that Ging had gone straight to the conference room, where Beans was waiting to meet with a handful of the Zodiacs--he'd needed to discuss something about preparations for the next year's Hunter exam. Cheadle headed for her office to exchange her crisp white coat for the decorative duster that she wore outside the lab and passed through the upper floor where other executives' offices were. The floor was quiet aside from the hushed shuffling of papers, so the sudden burst of a door opening startled Cheadle's sleepless brain. It was Pariston's office, and Cheadle braced herself to look as composed as possible. She was prepared to keep her guard tight, expecting the Rat to banter with her as he usually did.

However, it wasn't Pariston but Kite who appeared in the hall seconds later and Cheadle's resolve took a nose dive in time with her jaw falling open. Kite's blue cabbie hat seemed to be in proper place, but his hair was frazzled at the nape of his neck and one side of his shirt's hem was bunched over the top of his sash. His eyes pulled up from the hole they were burning in the floor and widened once Cheadle came into view.

His mouth trembled open, grasping for words, but she spoke first. "I heard Ging had finished up his excavation. It went well, I hope?"

"It... did," Kite stumbled.

"It's good to see you again," Cheadle said, feigning pleasantry for his sake. "No more rock climbing accidents, I take it?"

He gripped his previously broken arm unconsciously. "No, this trip was a lot less exciting."

"That's good." She remained frozen in the hall, letting Kite move around her as he pleased. The way he slinked by was eerily like a dog crawling off with its tail between its legs, and Cheadle could feel her aura burning in her veins. "Ging is in the conference room on the ninth floor. You won't be able to go in, but he shouldn't be much longer if you'll just wait outside."

He faced her but appeared pained to do so. "Thank you."

Cheadle waited for him to disappear into the elevator and watched the indicator light rise and flash up to the ninth level. When she turned back for her office, Pariston was dangerously close and she leapt back before his outstretched hand could reach her shoulder.

Too close.

"Oh, dear, you let your guard down," Pariston sang. He cascaded his fingers in a mock wave and reached out for her. She evaded concurrently with his movement forward until he laughed, "I'm just joking. You can stop looking at me like you're going to bite my hand off."

"Office," Cheadle snarled. "Now."

Pariston's smile fell, his eyes darkening as his arm returned to his side. His suit was polka dotted and his tie wasn't even the least bit askew despite what he'd been doing only moments earlier.

"Not in the mood to play, I see." Cheadle glared in response and Pariston sighed before stepping back to the door and gesturing for her to enter first.

With the door closed, Pariston asked, "What's got you so upset?"

Cheadle went on the offensive. "Stop screwing around."

"Oh," Pariston gasped. "This is about little Kite."

"Whatever is going on between you and Ging," Cheadle snapped, "Kite has nothing to do with it. Hurting him isn't going to help you get under Ging's skin, if that's what you're after."

"Hmm, no," Pariston declined. "You misunderstand. I'm not trying to reach Ging. I know he could care less. But that boy..." Pariston paced back and sat on the edge of his desk. "He is. So. Entertaining." The way he punctuated every word with a wave of his index finger nearly made Cheadle come unglued. "He's like a little animal. Rub his belly and tell him he's a good boy and he'll lay right down--"

"You're disgusting," Cheadle cut.

Pariston leveled a dead stare at her. "Can I assume that you're the one that fixed his arm up?" She grit her teeth at him. "Did you kiss it better for him? I bet he liked that."

"So, it was you," she declared. "I had assumed as much, but thank you for confirming it."

"I thought I'd done a fantastic job of it, too," Pariston pouted. "Your ability must be quite the sight to behold if you were able to repair that. I wonder how--"

"My Nen acts as a virus, attaching to individual cells and reprogramming them under my direction. A fracture is child's play to repair when I can simply shift and graft the bone back together." Pariston showed no sign of surprise on his face, but his silence was more than enough to assure Cheadle that she'd earned his attention. Ging had been right in assuming that her ability would be sniffed out by the Rat eventually, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of digging it up himself. Better to orchestrate the reveal herself now rather than have to worry when he'd learn of it later. "I don't care who you think you are, Pariston. If I find anything like that on him again, I'll deal it back to you tenfold, and I assure you, you will be powerless to stop me."

"You're certainly confident," Pariston said carefully. "But, the fact is that you're not physically strong enough to fight me. And, after this exchange, you know I won't let you close enough to land an attack. Am I to assume then... that you can weaponize the air around us?"

"That is a very good assumption."

"An aerosolized Nen virus." Pariston's smile returned. "It's a good thing I don't plan on injuring him again, then. I trust, however, that you won't hold it against me if he seeks me out?"

The smug look on Pariston's face was grating on her last nerve, and when he flashed her a victorious grin, she decided to give him something more significant to think about.

"You assume that his arm is the only thing I corrected," she said, "but more specifically, I was referring to whatever Manipulative ability you were using against him. I'm sure during your tryst a moment ago you didn't fail to notice that your aura had been purged from him, seeing as how you've already replaced it."

His smile didn't crack, his heartbeat didn't quicken, but the lack of response was more telling coming from the Rat. Cheadle had hit him where it hurt.

"I think our business is done here, don't you?" he said evenly. Cheadle held her position for a long, silent moment until he motioned toward the door. "There's a gathering tonight. I hope you'll be in attendance. You know Ging and Kite will."

 

\-----------------

 

Night fell and, true to Pariston's words, there was a party in full swing. Highly acclaimed Hunters convened, trading stories of their accomplishments. Cheadle attended, if only to verify that Ging would be there.

Kite was in close proximity to Pariston when she arrived, which unnerved Cheadle greatly. She became even more disgusted by the sight of a drink in the boy's hand and the rosy flush that painted his face. Steeling herself, she searched for Ging in the crowd, finding him in a circle of Ruin Hunters, including an up-and-comer named Satotzz who had made his big break on an expedition with Ging some years prior. As Cheadle approached, the group dispersed, exchanging goodbyes, but Ging hung back, arms crossed and scowl firmly planted.

"What do you want now?" he asked. "If it's about Kite--"

"You know it is," she retorted. "Pariston had his way with him earlier today and is well on his way to doing it again. What in the hell are you doing, Ging?"

"I'm letting him go," Ging answered. "He knows enough about Nen now that he'll have no trouble passing the exam. After that, he won't even need a teacher since he knows the principles, so he'll be able to go it alone."

"The next exam isn't for another eight months. What's he going to do until then?"

"He'll figure something out," Ging said with a shrug. "He'll shack up with somebody, probably. That seems to be what he's used to doing, anyway."

"What he's..." Cheadle was dumbfounded. "Is that what he was doing with you, as well?"

"To be fair, he tried to get closer so it wouldn't just be a sex thing, but I'm not interested in anything like that. Mostly I made him keep his distance, but he's goddamn persistent." Ging pinched his brow between his thumb and finger. "He's not a bad kid, but he's exhausting. Regardless of what you think, I do keep an eye on him in the field. But, he can get reckless and it's a pain in the ass keeping him out of trouble."

"He acts out in desperation so that you'll praise him," Cheadle scolded.

"I never wanted a student," Ging countered. "It was a mistake ever picking him up."

"Do you really care so little?"

"I don't want him to end up dead or anything," Ging snapped. "That doesn't mean I want him clinging to me like a shadow."

"Then why did you sleep with him?" Cheadle yelled.

"Because he was insistent." Ging glanced off to the side.

"He was insistent," she echoed.

"Yeah, he. Well." Ging fumbled, clearly seeing where Cheadle was going with her line of questioning. "He thought he owed me for helping him. It was just... payment."

"Payment."

"Mmhmm."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her voice raised to the point that Ging wanted to plug his ears. "You were too prideful to say 'it was nothing' and so you... you! You asshole!"

"Look, you have no right to get so upset. It's not like you have any tie to him."

"Oh, that's been made abundantly clear, because if he were mine, I would--"

She hushed herself, feeling tears welling behind her glasses. If he were... How much pain would he have been spared? How many fewer times would he have made a shameful escape from the office of a man who just intended to use him? How many fewer nights would he have fallen asleep to the feeling of being unwanted? How many fewer times would he have slept with his supposed protector to pay back a debt that didn't exist?

If she had only taken him the first day they met, what would the last four months have been like? If, instead of overseeing Sanbica's probationary period, she was in the midst of preparing Kite for the Hunter exam... If, instead of fighting the daily nagging feeling that she'd made a huge mistake, she was discovering all the things that Kite excelled in and could be praised for...

She covered her mouth with a gloved hand to hold back the broken sound that threatened to betray her as Ging urged, "You would what?"

She whirled back to where Pariston was standing, running his hand through Kite's long hair, gripping tighter at the base of his neck. She tasted bile as Pariston dipped forward to place a peck on his lips.

"Hey," Ging said, grabbing her attention back. "After this, I'm leaving town."

"Without him," Cheadle verified.

"Yeah."

She clenched her fists, taking a shaky breath. "Fine. You know what, fine."

"Huh?" She stomped off, leaving Ging behind. "Fine what? What the hell, Cheadle?"

She paid him no mind, weaving through the crowd and ignoring the clipped greetings that sounded off as she passed. When she reached the opposite side of the room, Pariston gave her a questioning look, but Kite was unaware she'd approached until she had latched onto his sleeve and hauled him off by his arm.

Kite sputtered and lost grip of his drink, sending it to the floor where the glass shattered. Several partygoers turned their heads while he stumbled alongside Cheadle and was ushered out of the hall and to the elevator.

"What...? Wh--Cheadle?"

"How many drinks have you had?" she asked.

"I... two?" He pressed his palm to his forehead. The elevator car arrived and he put up no resistance to her leading him inside. "Was on my second."

"Did you take anything straight?" When the car began to descend, Kite leaned heavily on the wall, dropping his head to hide his eyes under his cap. Cheadle moved closer in case he needed a brace and got a view of his face, the warmth running under his unfocused eyes. She had a tugging desire to raise a gloved hand to his cheek and was shocked at her lack of aversion. If Sanbica so much as grazed her while they were working in the lab, Cheadle had to fight off panic, so why was it so different with Kite?

"I did," Kite said, his eyes wavering as they met hers. "A few." His gaze wandered to the side, his mouth bending into an embarrassed frown.

The expression struck Cheadle harder than a slap and her arm moved mechanically to press her palm to his cheek. "You aren't in trouble, Kite. I just need to know how best to treat you if you're going to be sick."

He was completely pliant against her hand, sinking until her thumb brushed his earlobe, and he shuddered bodily at that. "One with Ging. One... two with Pariston."

And Cheadle had a strong suspicion that they may have been double shots, too. "When did you have the first?"

"Seven o'clock."

Cheadle had arrived at eight-thirty. She tensed. She'd be lucky to get him back to her hotel before the worst of the effects hit him. She wondered how intoxicated he'd been months ago in front of the Association building and if tonight was comparable. If so, it was going to be a long night.

"Where are we going?"

Cheadle blinked at the question. She hadn't even considered that Kite might not want to follow her. "My... um. Hotel."

"I should..." Kite's blush darkened. "I think Ging is still--"

"He was about to leave, but he asked me to keep an eye on you," Cheadle lied. If Kite knew Ging intended to leave town, he would most likely try to intercept him to prevent it from happening.

"I'm sure he's still angry," Kite muttered. "He didn't want me to come tonight." He turned his head, his nose brushing Cheadle's wrist. "He's sick of having me around. And, with Pariston... I thought he would... but it only made him hate me."

"Why don't you give him a while to think it over?" Cheadle said softly. "Maybe put some distance between yourself and all of this until morning."

Cheadle's hand trailed off his face, over the projection of his shoulder, and down his arm until his long fingers were in her palm. Kite's eyes softened, looking wet, and he nodded. The elevator reached the ground floor and Cheadle led him out, their hands connected.

 

\------------------

 

The hotel Cheadle stayed in was quaint, quiet, and tidy. It was a considerable step up from the places Ging usually stayed but nowhere close to as grand as the room Pariston had brought Kite to. It was warm but humble, meeting a happy medium that Kite found relaxing the moment he set foot inside.

Cheadle checked that the door was securely locked behind them before discarding her hat and coat. Kite watched the immaculate material slide off her shoulders, then her hands as she neatly folded the coat and placed her gloves atop it. Her every movement was so careful that his stomach flipped with a feeling of fondness.

And then a wave of nausea.

Cheadle gasped when he dove into the adjoining bathroom and retched into the toilet. She had wondered when he'd reach critical mass and had actually expected it to hit before they ever set foot in the room, but he has somehow managed to hold himself together for the taxi ride over. She peeked around the door frame and felt a sympathetic pang when she saw his lanky body crumpled on the floor. The second time he heaved, she leapt forward to collect his hair behind his back before it dropped limp into the mess.

She took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, using her free hand to rub circles on his trembling back. She carefully removed his hat and brushed his hair completely away from his face. Once the sickness had stopped, he reached up blindly to flush and remained face down. His voice echoed in the bowl, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Cheadle asked gently.

"I'm pathetic," he rasped, his throat scratchy. "And I'm disgusting."

"You're neither of those things," Cheadle argued. She tugged at the back of his shirt, pulling it half-out of his sash. "Let's get you out of these. I think a shower would do wonders for you."

Kite dragged his head from the toilet to look blearily up at her. He rocked back on his heels, hesitating only a moment before deciding that was possibly the best idea he'd ever heard and yanking his shirt over his head. He stood as quickly as his body would allow and stripped his pants and black briefs down in one straight motion. His brain only caught up with the action when Cheadle let out the tiniest peep of a sound, and when he looked at her face she had gone beet red.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I--"

"No, it's okay," she yelped. It didn't help that with him standing and her sitting, his hips were dangerously close to her eye level. She quickly stood, making a visible effort to look anywhere but at his penis. "Here, are you feeling dizzy? I'll help you in."

He didn't want to admit his instability but resigned himself to taking the assistance rather than risk ripping down the shower curtain trying to step into the tub. Cheadle motioned for him to sit at the end of the tub while she busied herself with adjusting the water temperature before she sent it through the shower head. The spray washed down Kite's chest and he drew his legs up to hide his stiffening cock. He had every intention of tugging himself off under the warm stream--at least, he did until Cheadle took a seat on the edge of the tub.

"Is it okay?" The look he gave in response must have been obviously bewildered as she continued, "The water temperature. Is it okay?"

"Yes," he clipped. "It's fine." She smiled, pleased, and suddenly Kite was at full attention. He dropped an arm in front of himself to press his dick to his stomach. Cheadle remained beside him, seeming unfazed by the water that was soaking into her dress and dripping onto the floor. He had a sudden thought that struck him as humorous. "I'm not going to pass out and drown or anything. You don't have to stay."

Her eyes widened behind her steamy lenses. "Oh, I thought--do you want me to leave?"

"What? No," he said quickly. Desperately. He averted his eyes and Cheadle combed a hand through his hair. It took great effort for him not to melt under her touch.

"Then I'm here."

Kite savored her petting a moment before speaking again. "Cheadle?"

"Hm?"

"Ging told me once that you... that you're afraid of being touched." The hand on his head stilled.

"I'm not afraid of it, per se," she corrected. "Highly averse, yes, but not afraid." She resumed stroking his hair. "I've always been... odd. That trait was compounded once I began working with virulent materials. After a while I began conditioning myself to avoid contact, to prevent contamination. It's... troublesome."

"Are you not worried that I'll contaminate you?"

"Surprisingly, that isn't something I've considered," she admitted, "not since after I healed you." She brought her hand in front of him, gesturing for his. He fumbled to offer her the one that wasn't heroically holding his penis down. She laced her fingers through his. "My Nen works much in the way a virus would. It's an invader. As such, powerful auras will clash with mine in an attempt to reject it. But yours..." She squeezed his hand. "Yours put up no resistance and instead accommodated me readily. Softly. It probed out as though it was trying to understand me, but was very welcoming. It felt... nice."

His cock throbbed. "I see."

When the water began to cool, Cheadle adjusted it and returned back to his side. He offered up his hand again and his heart bounded when she instantly took it. "Ging didn't ask you to do this, did he?"

She frowned. "No, he didn't."

"He intended to leave without me."

"He did," Cheadle confirmed. "He's probably already gone."

Kite nodded and squeezed her hand tighter. He thumbed over her knuckles, noticing that they were more callused than he remembered from the night she treated him. Her cuticles seemed inflamed, too, as though she had recently cleaned under her nails too forcefully.

He felt his eyes burning and threw his head away from her so she wouldn't see them welling. Ging was gone. It wasn't such a surprising thing, but that didn't make it any less painful. The tremble in his voice was obvious when he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Cheadle dipped in to gather him in her arms. He froze as he pressed his wet cheek into her shoulder. When he did take a breath he could smell the tang of antiseptic clinging to her dress and under that the subtle floral scent of her shampoo. He melted into her and her clothes leeched moisture from his skin until they were saturated. She finally answered, "You look more miserable every time I see you and I can't stand it."

"I never should have... When he told me to go with them, I should have," Kite murmured. Cheadle had no idea what he was referring to, but she held him closer nonetheless as he pressed into her high collar. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"It's okay," she soothed. "You only wanted him to care about you. There's nothing wrong with that."

He took a sharp breath as his arms came up to clasp around her. "I keep making the same mistakes over and over and for what? For shelter, for food, power, the slightest chance at something better? And it's gotten me nowhere."

"That isn't true." Cheadle couldn't remember the last time she'd been held and she fought the kneejerk reaction to pull away. "Everything you've done has been in the name of survival, and, in case you haven't noticed, you're still alive. Is that not a success?"

Kite loosened his hold on her, wilting slightly. He gave no response, only short hiccups against her throat. She allowed him to stay there until the water ran cold twice over and Kite finally had to concede to discomfort.

Cheadle stopped the shower, ducked out of sight, and returned with an armful of plush items. One was a towel and and other appeared to be a fluffy bathrobe. She helped Kite up and out, then separated the towel from the pile. Extended exposure to his nudity seemed to lessen her unease around him, as she began toweling off his shoulders and chest. However, when she reached his navel and he bit back an obvious groan, she abandoned the towel in a flustered rush.

"You can, um, wear that," she stammered, pointing to the robe. "Once you're dry. It will be small, but it's clean at least."

Before Kite could question why his clothes weren't sufficient, she gathered them up and made a hasty retreat from the bathroom (he wondered if maybe he'd vomited on them). He finished drying off, moving quickly over his cock so as not to rouse it again (the water going cold had saved him, honestly, but he felt sure Cheadle had to have seen his erection when his arms were around her instead of guarding his crotch).

Kite tugged the robe over his shoulders, fighting back a laugh. She meant well, but Cheadle was comically petite compared to him. The hem, which would, no doubt, fall to her knees barely grazed him mid-thigh, and the robe closed around him only by the grace of his body being exceptionally slender.

He searched the bathroom for something to rinse his mouth with and found a bottle of mouth wash sitting with the rest of Cheadle's toiletries by the sink. After a hasty pour, swish, and spit, he headed out of the steamy room.

Cheadle had stripped down to the sheer slip and camisole that she wore under her dress and crawled into bed when Kite exited the bathroom. Her glasses were folded and placed neatly on the bedside table. Her vision was still clear enough to see him, however, and she giggled at the too-short robe. Having purged the worst of the nausea from his system and showered, Kite was less sick but still light-headed from the alcohol. The bubbly feeling that remained put him in decently good spirits despite his previous slump, and he spun on his heel to give Cheadle a three-sixty view. "Thoughts?"

"I think," Cheadle laughed, "we'll get your clothes washed tomorrow."

Kite moved to grab a pillow and bring it to the floor but Cheadle halted him. “Oh, you don’t have to...” She flushed and ducked under the duvet. “You can sleep up here. It will be more comfortable than the floor.”

"Are you sure?" Kite asked. "When I get like this I can be, ah... clingy."

"The bed isn't that large to begin with," Cheadle reasoned. "I don't mind if you lay close."

Kite tentatively lifted the covers and slid under. His hair almost instantly soaked the pillow through as he laid down. "I'll move if you change your mind."

Kite curled in on himself, but kept as far from her as the bed would allow. Cheadle fidgeted and finally rolled on her side to face him. Seeing how uncomfortable he looked perched on the edge, she lifted her arm, opening her chest to him. "Kite, if you want, we can..."

He looked shocked then immensely relieved. He dove into her, barely hiding how eager he was. Kite sighed and went limp as her arms circled around his back, and the heat of his breath warmed the front of her camisole. She shivered at the sensation and tightened her hold. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed, and Kite gave another hot exhale to test the waters. Her fingers twitched against his shoulders.

Kite nuzzled in. She wasn’t making a move toward anything more intimate, but simply being held by her was numbing the remaining ill effects of the alcohol, albeit making Kite rock hard in the process. His touch tentatively turned into soft kisses into the dip of her sternum and when she didn’t react unfavorably to that he pressed more forcefully to plant his lips to the slope of her breasts.

She wiggled against him but her arms remained behind his back, even as his fingertips slid under the lacy hem of her camisole. Her skin was heated and his hand snaked up until he met the silky softness of her breast. Fingers glided over the bead of her erect nipple, circling it to tease before her took her wholly in his palm.

“Kite,” she gasped, her hand coming up to grip his elbow, “you don’t owe me anything.”

His brain delayed his recognition that she’d even spoken. “What?”

“I did what I did tonight because I wanted to,” she clarified. “You don’t owe me for it, if that’s what this is...”

“It isn’t,” Kite said quickly. He hadn't even considered that her assistance might come at a price, surprisingly, given how he usually worried about debts to others. The admission of her charity was a relief. “You... this, it feels really good. But I’ll stop if you don’t want me.”

It certainly wasn’t that she didn’t want him, and that frightened Cheadle somehow. Knowing what Kite had been through, she felt just as responsible for encouraging him, as she believed Ging and Pariston should. But, the boy was clearly touch-starved, by no choice of his own, and Cheadle worried that if she rejected him, she'd lose him entirely. Weighing her options, she released his elbow so he could continue. She intended to stop him if he went too far, and eased her conscience by reasoning that there was no shame in letting him indulge in physical contact (or, even more so, allowing herself to enjoy it). With his arm freed, he continued to knead her breast, sliding his other hand along her side.

He eased her camisole up and pressed a gentle kiss to her exposed skin. She whined at that and rested her hand on the back of his head. He explored more openly, trailing his nose up the midline of her stomach and nuzzling the side of her naked breast.

"You're so soft," he murmured. Her whimper turned to a gasp as he took her nipple into his mouth and ran his tongue in a circle around it. His free hand was working her other breast, squeezing gently and tweaking her nipple to a taut peak.

"Kite," she sighed. "Kite, ah--! Wait, wait!"

He practically leaped off of her, fearfully trying to gauge her expression. Was she angry? Did he go too far?

Cheadle's hands were trembling on either side of his jaw as she pulled him closer to her face. "Up here first," she suggested.

His heart was pounding as he dipped in to kiss her. He straddled over her to get a better angle, grinding his erection against her hip as he nibbled her lower lip. Her fingers ghosted down his neck and under the collar of the robe to touch his chest. It was tentative, so innocent and sweet, that it was driving Kite crazy as he deepened the kiss. Cheadle met him with a clumsy fervor that made him feel sure she hadn't had many intimate encounters, her aversion to touch no doubt fueling her inexperience. But, her response was genuine in a way that Pariston's never had been, lacking selfishness or ulterior motive (and Ging had honestly never kissed him, so Kite wouldn't know how he would compare). His tongue touched and twisted against hers until she was moaning into his mouth.

His hand glided down her body, hesitating at the waistband of her slip, and he broke their kiss to say, "I want to touch you."

Cheadle nodded fiercely, inhibitions be damned, and dragged him back down to her. Kite began again, getting ramped up by her enthusiasm, and dipped his hand under her slip and into her panties. He pushed his long fingers between the cleft of her labia and pressed into her clit. She moaned against him as he rubbed circles over her. When he felt her becoming slick he crooked his middle finger and sank into her in one fluid motion, causing her to break away and whine into his shoulder. She cried out and bucked up onto him, taking him in deeper with every thrust.

Kite rolled his wrist to line up a second finger and kneaded her clit with the heel of his hand as he slid it in beside the first. He worked her until her panties were soaked through and then decided to strip her of them.

Cheadle shuddered as he exposed her, dragging her slip and panties to her ankles. Part of her brain was screaming that she should stop him, but the other, neurotic part was thankful that he was removing the damp cloth that had honestly begun to make her uncomfortable. His hand resumed position, ghosting over her pubic hair--which he noted was neat but thick and, oddly enough, a darker green to match the hair on her head. A beat later he was in her again, feeling her out and rocking his wrist in time with her squirming. She was dissolving, breaking apart, and she covered her face with her arms to hide.

Kite pried one arm away as she moaned into the other and he swooped in to kiss her again as he continued to stroke her. He repositioned her hand, bringing it back to his chest. Her fingers traced cool lines over his collar bone, dipped into the robe to move down his sternum. Kite felt the slightest resistance from the belt securing the robe and he lifted off of her to tug it loose. Uninhibited, Cheadle’s hand crept over his ribs, her nails pressing into his upper back as he beckoned his fingers inside her. He groaned at the pressure on his skin, scooped his free hand under her thigh, and tugged her leg up on his hip.

Kite pulled out of her slowly, teasing his knuckles across her clit. She whined against her forearm, trembling, and when she peeked up at Kite he was laving his tongue over his fingers to taste her. She stammered out a few broken syllables and finally managed to squeak, “What are you doing?”

“You taste good,” he said, as though it was the obvious response. She ducked her face in embarrassment and Kite reached for her with his dry hand. He stopped short of her chin, suddenly feeling too nervous to bring her gaze back. “Did I do something wrong?”

She looked up at him, at the uncertainty he’d stumbled into. “It’s not you. I’m the one who’s...” His hand hovered near enough for her to brush her cheek against his knuckles. He softened at the gesture. “It just seems that you’re very comfortable with yourself, and maybe that’s intimidating. You’re so young and yet...”

“It isn’t something I’m proud of,” he admitted as she reached up to tuck a strand of still-wet hair behind his ear.

“I don’t see why,” Cheadle countered. “You’re honest and don’t bother hiding what you want. That’s admirable in and of itself.”

"Why do you think that's..." Kite read into her words. “What are you hiding, then? What is it that you want?” She sent a roving gaze over him from the corner of her eye and it was enough of an answer for Kite. He came forward to kiss her forehead then her flushed cheek. "I'll do anything you ask."

"I wouldn't even know what..." A tiny crease of uncertainty formed between her brows.

Kite felt a fumbling discomfort forming in his chest, and the robe around his shoulders was becoming more constricting than it had any right to be. Cheadle was clearly too meek to make any show of dominance over him, but he wasn't exactly accustomed to being the assertive one, or being with a woman at all, for that matter. He'd had female partners before, sure, but they had more or less used him as a glorified toy. And, they'd certainly never considered him worthy enough to fuck face-to-face when he was the one making the move.

Cheadle deserved better, of that he was sure.

"Do you want me to go further?" Kite asked, trying to gauge what she might have in mind.

"I..." Something was on the tip of her tongue, but her hesitation was choking her. Finally, she took a shaky breath and looked him straight in the eye. "I haven't done this before."

"A one-night stand?" he assumed.

"No, um. Any... of it." Her voice quieted to a whisper with each word.

"Any of it," Kite echoed.

The full implications of the statement ran through Kite's mind like an siren. He jumped back, but she sprang up and grabbed the front of the robe to keep him from tumbling completely away. By sitting up she'd pulled herself into his lap, and he braced his hands behind her back to stabilize her as he settled on his heels.

"That means what you think it does," Cheadle said quickly, "but that doesn't mean I'm opposed to--to you--"

"To me being the one who changes that?" Kite finished for her.

"Right," she said quietly. She hadn't intended to let their encounter go so far, but every action, every touch, had warmed her to the idea of it. His jaw was slack in shock and she tipped forward to kiss him, clinging to his chest. He groaned against her lips, and the loose material of the robe was all that prevented his erection from pressing to her skin-to-skin.

Kite's mind raced as she circled her arms around his neck to hold him close. Going into this, he'd been skeptical that she'd be receptive to him at all, but learning just how far her inexperience stretched was daunting. Surely she had expectations of what a first encounter would be like--and Kite seriously doubted that rolling around with a fumbling drunk teenager met any of her criteria.

Her lips tickling his neck brought him back to the present, and when he stole a glance down her eyes were glistening excitement beneath her thick lashes. The last thing he wanted was to be a disappointment, especially when she'd given him exactly what he wanted thus far. If Cheadle noticed Kite's discomfort, she showed no indication, but he felt certain at that moment that he could duck under the bed and feel perfectly content doing so. His throat was tightening even as she said, "Forgive me if I'm a little nervous."

Kite tried to decide how best to handle her, as he mustered up the wherewithal to proceed. If she was committed to continuing (though he had to wonder how much of her concession was simply her humoring him), pretending he wasn't completely in a drunken fog was the least he could do.

He rolled with her, reversing their positions so that she was perched atop his hips, her weight pressing his dick flat to his stomach. She looked unsure and crossed her hands over her chest. "I don't know that this is... I mean, this would probably go better if I--"

Kite pushed her up enough to part the robe fully then pulled her flush by her hips. She slid over his length, hugging him between her lips, and she whimpered at the friction. He asked, "Is this good?"

"Ahh, yes."

She made no mention of needing a condom, so Kite could only assume that wasn't a concern of hers. Experienced or not, she was a doctor, after all, and he had to trust that she would stop him if he crossed a line. He didn't let that worry delay him any longer, instead focusing on how he could please her while also causing the least discomfort.

She was still slippery and pliant from his previous handiwork, which Kite intended to use to his full advantage. He maneuvered her back and forth a few times, slicking his dick with each test pass between her labia. His head peeked out, achingly hard as she glided over him, dragging his foreskin down. As he rocked her forward, he shifted his hips, so that on the backward stroke he was angled enough to press against her core. She squeaked and stuttered forward to splay her hands on his chest.

"Oh, Kite, slow--go slow--"

"It's okay," he assured, removing his hold on her hips. "You can, um... this way you can go as fast as you want."

"Oh."

Cheadle stole a glance between her legs, her mouth going dry at the sight of him lined up to impale her. She brought a hand between her legs, touching tentatively to steady him. She wanted to cringe when her fingers met with the dampness she'd left but moving her fingertips brought her instead to dry, velvety skin, which was much more pleasant in comparison. She ran her index finger experimentally across the center of his shaft and he sighed underneath her.

Her eyes trailed back up his body--the dusting of contrasting dark hair that crowned his penis and became sparse toward his navel, the sleek tone of his abdominal muscles, the defined outline of his ribcage, the sharp dip of his clavicle. His Adam's apple arched prominently from his throat, bobbing as he gulped under her examining eye. She could see his aura pulsing through his veins, and she realized that she'd unconsciously activated Gyo to better evaluate him--a habit she tended to slip into when her glasses were removed. Her chest swelled fondly as her gaze crawled over his chin, his parted lips, his hooked nose, his warm brown irises. Their eyes met and the connection, combined with her stroking over his dick, was enough sensory overload that his aura splintered and vibrated around him. Underneath it all, running like a thread, was a tainted string of aura that Cheadle had encountered before--Pariston's. She'd have to expel that from him again, later.

Cheadle circled her fingers fully around his base and when her palm put the gentlest pressure, he bit back a moan, his eyes clamping shut.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've been thoughtless. You've done everything so far and I haven't even--"

"Don't," he protested, prying his eyes open. "I don't mind."

"But we don't have to go straight to--I can also, if you want me to--" Cheadle could feel her face burning as she struggled to find the right words.

"It's fine. This time I just want you to feel--"

He stopped himself abruptly, as though he'd said something blasphemous. Cheadle stilled over him and repeated, "This time?"

"What I meant was--well, if you even like it, do you think--" Kite was tripping over himself, sounding exactly as young and vulnerable as he was. "Do you think we could... that there could be a... next time?"

"Kite..." She'd never been so afraid of breaking someone before. "I don't want to make promises unless I know I can keep them." The dejected fall of his expression was almost physically painful to see. "That's not to say that I'm not considering it, I just--"

"I understand." He offered her a weak smile.

Cheadle dove forward to kiss him. She hated that she'd hurt him, but getting his hopes up before she was certain she could follow through would be an even graver offense. Upset or not, he whimpered against her lips and met her with renewed vigor. When she pulled back, he looked considerably more satisfied. She shifted to her previous position, took his still-stiff cock in her hand, and lined him up.

Cheadle eased herself down, hissing at the skin-on-skin tug. Kite’s fingertips laid the softest dents into her thighs, steadying her as she trembled on him. She knew logically that any discomfort would be temporary, that the thinnest barrier separated them, but a corner of her mind was clinging to self preservation, making it torturously hard to just sink onto him fully. She tried to tame her worry by comparing it to other experiences—physical exams were what first came to mind. She’d endured the prod of cold metal instruments, and her current situation was immensely more pleasant. But, thinking of something so clinical felt like an insult to the boy beneath her and her nerves rattled even more because of it.

Paranoia was creeping in on her, making her fear what Kite must think of her. Knowing his insecurity, knowing that he would cling to her for affection, she had led him straight to bed. Given the opportunity to show him something different, she’d reacted the same as the other authority figures around him, as though offering up her virginity made her any less manipulative. And now push was coming to shove and she couldn’t even bring herself to drop the remaining few inches to make it worth his effort. She feared that her hesitance would be misconstrued as indifference toward him, the same as he'd always received, and that thought made Cheadle's chest seize up with panic.

Kite was none the wiser to the extent of her worry, however. He bit the inside of his lip as she squeezed around him, groaned low when her muscles gave just enough for her to pop down over his head. When their eyes met briefly, her legs tensed at his sides and he busied his gaze lower. Her camisole was riding up, exposing her skin, and Kite focused instead on the slight pudge of her belly. He brought his hands up to her waist, his thumbs pulling soft creases in her stomach.

Ging was weather hardened and even Pariston was well-toned under his salaryman facade, but Cheadle was the polar opposite, almost seeming too delicate to have ever passed the Hunter exam, let alone to have risen to the rank of a Zodiac. Kite’s prior experience had ingrained in him that only those who were obscenely well-off had the luxury of excess weight, and generally those were the ones who were the worst to him—dangling food in front of his face as a reward, but only if he made no mistakes. Everything about Cheadle was endearing to him, though. Her softness was nurturing, protective—Kite would give anything not to make a mistake against her, but for entirely different reasons.

His line of sight jumped back to her face as she took a sharp breath and before he could affirm that she was okay, she dropped down flush to him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Kite felt her split to accommodate him and a wet warmth slid down the crease of his groin. He soothed over her sides with open palms. “Are you—“

“Fine,” she said quietly, dragging her knuckles against his abs. “It’s okay. It’s not so bad.” Kite wasn’t sure if the statement was more to convince herself, but her scrunched expression had begun to relax regardless.

Her muscles were spasming in protest as she lifted herself, but the second descent was leagues easier than the first. Below her, Kite was struggling to control his breathing and Cheadle’s slightest movements pulled gasps from him.

Though she was glad he seemed to be enjoying himself, she couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed. The sensation she was receiving wasn’t entirely unpleasant but the pulling friction was admittedly less than comfortable, and, were it not for Kite's reaction, she would have felt certain her movements were entirely wrong. When she had made a few mostly fruitless passes over Kite, he seemed to pick up on her discomfort as he asked, “Is it okay?”

His eyes were bright with concern and she knew lying to him wouldn't help anything. "It's... not the most pleasant. But, I'm sure it's just because it's the first time."

His heart bounded when she pulled a defeated frown. "Wait, no," he pleaded. "If it isn't good, let me--" He raised up and motioned to roll her to the side. She couldn't hide her skepticism but she moved as he directed, pulling off of him to lie under his lanky body. He repositioned, gently pulling her knees over his hips before settling between her legs. "I just thought it might be better to start with you on top, but we don't have to do it like that if it doesn't feel good."

He was desperate to correct what he feared was a critical error. He'd only suggested that particular position so that she could control the pace--he simply couldn't risk her being too concerned with his feelings to admit if he was moving too hastily. But, it seemed to have backfired.

Kite thumbed soothing circles into her inner thighs as he moved her into position. He tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a pang of guilt when he noticed the smear of blood running down the side of his shaft and the crease of his groin. He took his cock in one hand, gently spread her open with the other, and pressed carefully into her. He slid in easily enough, still coated from being inside her, and she rested back on the pillows as he filled her. He gave his hips a test roll and she whimpered under him, fumbling to place her hands on his sides.

Making deliberate movements, he leaned down, stretching body-over-body until he was within easy reach for her to snake her arms around his back. Her fingers twitched on his shoulders as he made a shallow thrust and dug in when he made a second, more forceful motion. Kite pulled one of her legs up slightly, finding a better angle, and she gave a breathy sigh as he set a rhythm to his thrusts.

Her lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them, and her eyes looked glassy under half-open lids. Kite took a risk, pistoned his hips up and Cheadle cried out, nails pressing into his skin. He repeated the motion, receiving another yelp. "Better?"

"It's--it..." Another hard thrust. "A-ah, yes!"

"Yes?" His hand slid from her raised leg to her waist and he tugged her down in time with his upward nudge.

"Yes!" she gasped. "That's good. It feels--ngh!"

Her fingers stumbled up to his cheek, his ear, grasped at his hair so she could yank him into a kiss. The blasé feeling she'd had before was quickly dissolving and ushering in jolts of pleasure with each snap of Kite's hips to hers. Cheadle was overcome with relief that Kite was so experienced, and didn't even entertain guilt at thinking so.

The knots in Kite's stomach, previously twisting as he worried about hurting her or contaminating her or causing her to regret having ever met him, were easing loose. He pulled away from the kiss to watch her, saw her expression pinch in pleasure as she sighed and moaned his name. Assurance that he wouldn't hurt her, hadn't hurt her, filled him, and he deepened his thrusts. Wet, skin-to-skin slapping sounded off and he stole a look down to their hips. She was dripping, sweating, trembling, and before he could get caught fully in that realization, she grabbed his neck and brought him into another insistent kiss.

Kite's thoughts wandered to his plan of action. He was confident with his current progress, but, with the possibility of a "next time" dangling in front of him, he couldn't afford to make a mistake. Ensuring that she orgasmed was an obvious requirement, but the aftermath of that would make the most significant impression on her. He weighed his options--would eating her out afterward be a good move or would that bother her? The plan certainly included doting on her--make sure she was clean and comfortable and warm--but that was fairly standard. What tripped him up was thinking about the final move.

After sex, he'd been with plenty of people, Ging and Pariston included, that would kick him out. Or force him to sleep on the floor. Or stay with him as he fell asleep but then disappear before he would wake. But Cheadle--

"Kite!"

She dragged her lips away from his and buried her face in his shoulder, crying out. He kept an even pace, holding her still as she writhed against him, until she seized up and panted his name. When her cries calmed to whimpers, he slowed his pace, intending to pull out, but she held him close as he shifted.

"Wait, you didn't--" Her eyes met his with an unbearable softness. "Did you?"

"No, but that's--"

"Keep going," she said. "You're..." Her lips pressed to his neck, curling into a smile. "You're incredible, keep going."

He slid out of her, and her protests weakened when he gripped her hips to flip her on her knees. Cheadle grabbed her pillow, pressing her face close and sighing into it when Kite tugged her close and thrust into her from behind. He moved slowly, deliberately, touching places that he couldn't face-to-face. Cheadle could tell from the way he shifted her hips that he was positioning her in the way that would pleasure him the most, and she eagerly followed his direction. His hands crawled up her stomach, squeezing her breasts through her camisole, and she arched her hips into his.

Kite's pace increased, rutting her into the pillow. As she moaned for him, he bent forward to kiss her shoulders, then her neck, and his breathing became heavier. He tried to groan out her name but cracked halfway through and gave her shoulder a gentle bite as he slammed into her and stilled. She shivered at the touch of his teeth and wiggled her ass into him. When he whined out in response, she gyrated against him several times, pulling the last bits of pleasure from him.

When he'd reached his limit, hyper-sensitive and reeling over the fact that he'd filled her, he jerked out and flipped her, startled, onto her back. Cheadle petted his face, brushed the damp hair from his forehead. She had every intention of bringing him down to lock lips when he snaked down her body, trailing kisses into her skin as he went. When he reached the drenched junction of her thighs, she readied a halfhearted protest that died off the second his tongue lapped up her slit.

The sound that ripped from her was more a squeak than anything else, her breath stolen by his gentle ministrations. Kite proved himself an adept multi-tasker as he rubbed soothing strokes over her thighs and stomach while sampling her more deeply. When he planted wet kisses over her center and softly suckled at her clit, she felt herself falling apart at the seams. He was good, too good, too sweet, and the only thought running through her head was that she didn't want him to stop. She was struck with an audacious idea and before considering the consequences, she acted.

She crossed her legs behind his head, tugging him forward and close so suddenly that his nose pressed flush to her and he groaned his approval against her slick skin. She bucked under him, crying and whining and giving Kite every indication that she was approaching orgasm. He ramped up his efforts, thinking again of what the aftermath would be like.

He felt assured that she wouldn't shove him away--she simply wasn't the type who could act in such a cold way. Instead, he presumed that she would hold him close, maybe even to the point of refusing to let him clean her up. While that wouldn't be such a terrible thing, Kite's plan was to wipe away the sticky aftermath, dress her if she had a sudden shy streak, tuck her in, and wrap his whole body around her if she'd allow it. The thought that she might want to cuddle, that she might give him a gentle smile if he praised her, that she might give him validation that he'd performed well... it made him feel unbearably warm.

Her thighs squeezed around him and he dipped his tongue deeper, probing until she was a writhing mess under him. She had become so slick and sweet, her taste mixing with the invading tang of his cum, and he eagerly lapped up everything she was giving him, humming his approval against her clit. When she finally descended from her high, she released him from the constricting hold of her legs and shaded her face in embarrassment.

"Kite, I'm really..." She was smiling even as she bit her thumbnail. "Sorry about dragging you in like that." Kite sat up, returning a lopsided grin as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Cheadle studied his face, saw a slightest tinge of blood, and sputtered in shock. "O-oh, is that--am I--"

"Hmm?" he purred, blissfully unaware.

"Um, there's--on your--there's blood--"

"Oh?" He glanced at the back of his hand and chuckled. "Don't be upset. It's not a big deal." He rocked back to the foot of the bed, stroked the side of her calf. "Stay here?"

"Okay..." she whispered.

Kite hurried into the bathroom and the sound of running water echoed out of the door. When he returned, he had a saturated washcloth in hand and he climbed back into bed. He gently parted her legs, giving her inner thigh a warm, wet stroke. Cheadle relaxed and settled back, allowing him to carefully wipe her down. Once finished, he discarded the cloth and brought his attention to her face.

"Are you comfortable like this or do you have clothes you'd rather change into?"

She shook her head and, in a surprising move, pulled her camisole off. "I'll just remove this since it's a little sweaty now. But, I..." She chewed on her words before correcting, "We can sleep naked if you're okay with that."

Kite nodded and playfully dove under the duvet, his arms snatching her down and under with him. He pressed as much of himself to her as possible, drinking in the glowing warmth of her skin. She giggled as he nuzzled her hair and gave her perked ear a frisky nip. She sighed, molding herself against him, clearly also intending to touch as much of him as possible.

Once she had settled, snuggled into his chest, he murmured, "Thank you."

He didn't want to fish for praise, though he was aching to hear her thoughts on the encounter. When he'd resigned himself to not being freely given the answer, she sighed, "Kite, you're amazing. I've never felt like that before, not even close."

"Surely you've tried things on yourself?" he said offhandedly.

"Sure," she said simply, "but I certainly haven't been able to get those sorts of results. It's always been lackluster, not really worth my time. So, honestly, I haven't even tried much, even on my own."

“I hope I didn’t hurt you.” Kite gathered his hair up and tossed it over the pillow. He wasn’t even going to think about what a tangled mess it was going to be come morning. And, stemming from that, he certainly wasn’t going to permit himself to audaciously imagine Cheadle’s fingers combing out the knots with surgical precision.

“I’m fine,” Cheadle assured. “More than fine, actually.” She shifted enough to throw a leg over his hip and he drew her in as tightly as he comfortably could. Cheadle traced her hand over his damp shoulder blades, drowned in the soft spice of his sweat, felt his aura teeming almost to the point of overflow. Her En lapped out, touching his aura and identifying the subtle dark strands of Pariston's Nen. She made no mention of the viral Nen she sent through him to weed out every trace of the sinister aura--simply made quick work of attacking it before recalling her virus. Her aura bled back into Kite, soothing the microcuts that had been left behind. Kite’s own clumsy sort of proto-En clung to Cheadle's aura in an attempt to assimilate, though Cheadle felt sure that Kite was still too green to even realize how he was responding to her.

Their auras melded seamlessly and Cheadle could feel Kite’s seeping to her center, immature but clear in its intent to coalesce with her. Cheadle was filled with an uncharacteristic and overwhelming urge to return the gesture. She was taken aback by her own desire to consume him, to touch and fuse and merge into a homogeneous blend of aura. She realized, without any remaining doubt, that since the broken arm incident, she had been longing for the contact, for an intimate reintroduction to the being that had greeted her Nen openly rather than giving it pushback. She had never before or since felt such a feeling of fondness toward her viral Nen, toward a force that was, in all actuality, an invader.

She had also never before had such an overpowering feeling that another person belonged to her.

Kite shifted downward until he could tuck his head under her chin, riding her leg up to sit under his ribs. He settled, curling himself around her wherever he could. He exhaled hot into her neck and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She absently petted his head. "For what?"

"For Ging," he murmured. "For Pariston."

He pressed closer to her, feeling terribly small in her arms. The reality of his youth and vulnerability burned like acid in Cheadle's throat and she fought against the guilt that threatened to consume her.

"Kite, do you resent me?" His breath caught in his throat. "You're agonizing over having had sex with the two of them, aren't you?"

"Only because I did before--" His fingers curled into her back. "Even today, before sunrise, I was with Ging. And Pariston, in his office today, he--"

"I don't care about that," Cheadle said. "I'm asking if you resent me, for being one more person who's done this to you."

"But they were--Ging only allows it for convenience and Pariston's just using me. This is different--"

"You're assuming I don't have an ulterior motive."

Kite's head snapped up, still nestled under Cheadle's but giving direction to his words. "You don't. You aren't like that."

"I lied to you about Ging so you wouldn't fight me," she said simply. "I knew that you'd put up less resistance if I held your hand. Part of me knew... that if I mentioned my hotel, you'd follow me." She could feel her eyes welling. She could pretend to be holier-than-thou all she wanted--the truth was that she had manipulated Kite just as much as anyone else.

"So what's your motive?" Kite challenged. "Since you're so convinced you have one."

"I care about you," Cheadle snapped. Kite squeezed her just a bit tighter. "That doesn't make my motivation any more honorable. The fact is that because I actually want you I'll play dirtier than they would."

"You want me?"

Cheadle huffed and clutched his head to her neck so he wouldn't be tempted to look up at her. "Did you not hear anything else I just said? I used you, too. I tricked you. I saw your vulnerability and used it to coerce you."

"Because you want me." His lips curled against her skin in an obvious smile. Cheadle readied a protest, but Kite kissed her pulse and said, "I don't resent you if you want me. I don't resent you. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

"It is," Cheadle admitted. "Because I'm selfish, I want you to absolve me of any guilt for doing this to you."

"I think I was the one doing all the, um, 'doing' anyway."

Cheadle felt sure her entire face had gone red, not that she was going to let Kite see it. She grabbed the duvet and tucked it around them, dodging his attempt at humor. "Go to sleep."

Kite nuzzled her throat. "I want you to want me."

"I want," she emphasized, "for us to talk more in the morning."

Knowing that it meant she'd be there when he woke, 'in the morning' sounded better than anything Kite had ever heard. "I want you too, Cheadle."

She hugged him close under the covers, traced her fingers over his warm skin. She thought back to Ging's words, that Kite would want whatever his master did, and considered how obedient he would be, how little resistance he would put up once he knew her full intentions. She held the boy protectively as his breathing evened with sleep, and her decision was made.

Come morning, she'd be formally accepting an apprentice, and it wasn't going to be Sanbica Norton.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!  
> This fic brought to you by the March rarepair challenge, coming to a collection near you!


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